


Shrimp

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Mild Horror, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis’ poor choices finally catch up with Ignis.





	Shrimp

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I tagged horror just in case, but you probably won’t be horrified. Special thanks to Ash for the bun, and to [Brycemase for LPing with a certain hat on.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5Nbw6iiHa4&index=2&t=&list=PLfcejBUbhSFGS60I4bYJbNFLTJp-4-XqQ)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or Cup Noodles or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The hot springs of Ravatogh have nothing on this place. With a languid sigh, Ignis sinks deeper into their warm embrace, and the nearly opaque surface of the simmering water laps higher up his chest. His back rests against a smooth surface, comfortably seated along an underwater shelf. His long legs stretch out to their full extent, his arms resting in his lap, his head tilting up as his lashes flutter down. Everything’s been so _stressful_ lately, and he needed this release like nothing else. He can feel every part of his body surrendering to the gentle ebb and flow of the water. He’s never been so _relaxed_.

He shifts his weight and crosses his legs, but the change in angle wedges his foot behind something—Ignis withdraws, adjusting once more. As lovely as this rich spring is, it’s a small little thing, and it’s completely over crowded. There are just far too many pool noodles. Prompto will probably be delighted when he shows up. Gladiolus will probably snort and tell Ignis to lighten up. Even Ignis used to enjoy pool noodles once, but that was long ago—back when he was young and still new to the Citadel’s grand pool, using them to steady himself as he taught an even younger Noctis to swim. Noctis had stubbornly insisted that he didn’t need such help, but Ignis never let him go far without a hefty set of water wings.

The memory makes him smile. In some ways, the years have hardened Noctis, but in other ways, they’ve softened him—given him time to mature and grow. Maybe now he’ll enjoy splashing about with Prompto, instead of taking them as a hit to his pride. Assuming they can get any of it apart, that is. The noodles are piled so high, bent so thoroughly, and tangled so much that it’s difficult to tell where one ends and another starts. Orange and green floaties are interspersed with the mess, floating by Ignis in large, solid chunks. A large green ball gets too close to him, and he pushes it away. Glancing over the white rim behind him, Ignis calls, “Noct!”

His answer is the stab of two giant poles not far from him, lancing down into the broth. Ignis nearly jumps out of his skin, shrinking away from the enormous threat, but they ignore him in favour of a knot of noodles. Ignis watches, horrified, as the yellow tubes drag over the side, rising up. His heart is pounding hard against his chest. The noodles disappear into a gaping mouth, then are swallowed up, and a giant’s tongue traces a familiar mouth. Ignis thinks the steam from the spring must be obscuring his glasses, must be messing with his vision, his mind. _Noctis_ is towering over him.

Noctis goes in for another helping of noodles, snaring a ragged piece of pink meat along the way. Ignis lunges out of that way, narrowly missing being caught up in the motion. Noctis slurps his prize down, and Ignis shouts in earnest, “ _Noct!_ ”

Noct doesn’t listen. He never does. He stirs his cup and fetches more, more, then lifts the entire thing towards his open mouth, the rising broth pooling to the side where he tilts it, and Ignis is tossed forward into the fray. He grabs and clutches to the plastic walls, clinging desperately on, and screams his king’s name at the top of his lungs. He won’t be drunk down. He won’t relinquish his hold. But he’s a tiny little naked man in a draining cup of _cup noodles_ , and his beloved king won’t hear him. 

Because Ignis never taught him to appreciate his food. Ignis always covered for him, indulged him, let him ignore the healthier foods, the meatless dishes, in favour of just wolfing down whatever cheap food with meat from Astrals-know-where inside, never mind that Ignis—

“Ignis?”

The tired mumble jerks him out of the dream in a whiplash transition, leaving Ignis dizzy in its wake. His eyes wrench open and blink up at the canvas of their tent. It’s dark all around him. His clothes are all on, even his socks and riding gloves. He’s completely dry. He’s still tucked inside his sleeping bag.

Noctis is in another sleeping bag, curled up at his side, and yawns, “Bad dream?”

Ignis looks sideways, squinting through what little starlight makes it past the tent. Noctis is his normal size, clearly half asleep and perfectly harmless. It takes Ignis a second to croak back, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

Noctis nods. “You were squirming around and muttering my name. Figured you were having a nightmare.”

Ignis was. He waits another few seconds, letting the last dregs of disorientation slip away. Then he murmurs, “Thank you.”

Noctis nods again. His eyes fall closed. Somewhere in the blackness around them, Ignis can hear Gladiolus’ light snoring. Knowing Noctis, he’ll be just as gone in another minute.

Before he can, Ignis mutters, “Noct?”

Noctis grunts, “Yeah?”

“...Get rid of the cup noodle hat.”

Given how ecstatic the party was to buy it, how hard Noctis grinned and how much Gladiolus laughed, how many pictures Prompto adoringly snapped off, Ignis fully expects Noctis to refuse him. But Noctis only mumbles, “Sure, Specs,” and yawns again.

Then he’s off—Ignis can tell from the pattern of his breathing. He can sleep like no one’s business. He’s a good man.

But he’ll have to make his own breakfast in the morning, because Ignis is officially overdone.


End file.
